containers and cartons full of clothes down to the basement.”
“Sure. Where are they?”
“In my office.”
“No problem. I’ll get right to it.” He hurried to Dennis’ office.
Michael retrieved four plastic bins. He could see the clothes were in varying stages, from ratty old robes and cassocks to tattered and beaten sandals. He thought the clothing was similar to what was worn in Jerusalem, conjuring up more memories of his time with Leah.
Lost in thought, he went through the motions of setting the plastic bins down in a corner of the basement.
He opened the top container and touched an old robe lying on top of the heap. He shivered as he bunched the material in his hand. He pushed the robe to the side and grabbed a cassock. Carefully, he pulled it over his head and tightened the belt. Not bad . He could walk through a Jerusalem crowd any day and not stand out. The nostalgic thought made him smile.
He returned to the bin and rummaged through it, finding a pair of men’s Teva sandals that looked like they were in good shape. Rubbing the straps, the familiarity of the sandals brought back the memory of wearing a similar pair in Jerusalem.
Thoughts of the final seconds of his encounter with the dangerous Roman soldier, coupled with the memory of kissing Leah, paralyzed him for a few minutes. His throat felt dry and his hand shook.
If I could go back I would. But I can’t leave Elizabeth. What if I don’t get back? I couldn’t do that, but I want to.
He let out a breath and inhaled again. Steadying his hands, he leaned down and slipped his feet into the sandals. With slow steps, he walked around the basement, recalling the feel of the rough roads and stones beneath his feet.
“Oh, there you are,” Connie said, yanking him out of his reverie as she poked her head through the doorway. “Pastor Dennis told me you were down here.” She gave him an incredulous look. “What’s with the get-up? Halloween was last month.”
Michael ignored her.
“Anyway, I spoke to this Linda woman,” she said, sounding triumphant. “Did you know she’s over fifty? I bet she’s even closer to fifty-five. But she’s never been to Jerusalem. And she says you guys have gone out. So what have you got to say now, little brother?”
Michael continued to ignore her.
“Did you hear me?”
“Nope.”
“What are you doing?”
“Thinking.” Michael continued to rummage through the boxes, not sure what he was searching for. He fingered the coins inside his pocket, jingling them, bringing back more memories of his extraordinary journey.
He knelt down beside the container and removed several items, much of them clothing and old relics, including a wooden cross on a necklace. There was an inscription on the back. The Lord shall protect his peaceful soldiers. He slipped it around his neck.
“Isn’t this beautiful, Connie?” He struggled to say the words in English but they came out in perfect Aramaic.
“What? What did you say?” Connie asked.
“You don’t understand?”
“What?”
“I’m saying your hair looks like a bird’s nest on a wet April day.”
She scratched her head, looking confused. “I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”
Michael trembled and removed the cross from his neck. “Isn’t this beautiful?”
She nodded, still baffled. “Yes it is. But, what were you saying before? What language was that?”
“I was yanking your chain,” he said, then ignored her guffaw as a glint of gold caught his eye. He knelt down and looked closer through the bin’s clear plastic. At the bottom, he spotted a cross, no more than a foot long and wide.
His heart pounded against his ribs.
He found it.
The steel door to the tunnel lay beneath the box.
All he had to do was open it.
But he didn’t.
Still kneeling, he stared at Connie, not saying a word.
“What? What’s wrong?” she asked in alarm.
He stood and reached over to the bowl of holy water, sitting on a stanchion by the wall.